The Anti Mom

Since the time of my last post, a lot of things have happened.  Apparently my blogger zone has changed, so I had to guess how to log in and write a new post.  But I'm modern, I'm intelligent, I figured out that the giant pencil was somehow related to "WRITE."  So here I am.  No no, stop cheering, I don't know how good my post will actually be.  Why?  Eh, I'm a little pissy right now.  And I just got my finger stuck in a bottle of wine that was supposed to relieve my pissiness.  How?  Because when I am annoyed/stressed, apparently I forget which way I am supposed to pull the handle of my very cool wine opener.  I chose poorly tonight and got my finger stuck while trying to push the cork the rest of the way in.  Alas, my story is not about being stupid or getting my finger stuck in a bottle.  Tonight my story is again, about momhood.

There are people in this universe who were MADE to be the neighborhood Mom.  They were born to it.  My Sister in Law has had like 20 kids at her house at once at some point.  And only 1/2 of them were there because they just put a pool in.  My nephews are the entertainers - they invite everyone over, and I am in awe that she will occasionally feed several children who did not spew forth from her body.  As I recall the stories, her (my Husband's) Mom was the same way.  I am not that woman.

I love everyone's kids.  I really do.  I recall wondering if another daycare Mom hated me because every time she got to daycare to pick her daughter up, she was sitting on my lap in the baby room.  I'm happy to say she did not hate me and we are friends to this day and our kids get together every once in a while even though they are not in the same school.  But this love of children kind of came as a shock to me.

Specifically, I refer to being 16 and forced to begin seeing the GYN.  Ewww.  I believe I may have waited until the second visit to ask for a hysterectomy because "I am never going to use it, so can I just get rid of it now?"  A) I did not want to have to endure 40 more years of periods.  (I had calculated the amount of blood lost in the average gunshot wound sustained in the military against 45 years of periods, and deduced women got the short stick in that deal.)  And B) As I stated, I had NO intent to use my uterus, so why did I really need it anyway?  I did not like kids, they were loud and annoying.  I did not like playing with baby dolls as a kid - I was much more interested in seeing Barbie go to 3rd base (or home) with Steve Austin (the 6 million dollar man) in the Barbie Camper at the drive in movie.  So c'mon doc, let's you and I just make sure we don't have any "accidents" along the way please.  He would not bend to my will.

When I was engaged, my future Husband and I had dinner one night and had the baby talk.  We both stated our ideal number of children.  Me "Zero."  Him "Two."  In my mind, even one was not a compromise.  But I loved him, and I was old enough already, so I decided that we should not discuss the subject any further.  Until one day on April 15th when my Husband and I were driving around to find a post office that was still open to mail our taxes (fyi - that is his fault because he delays until the last day, but it is my fault because I detest trying to figure out taxes so much that I still make him do the taxes).  I said "um, I guess if we are going to have a baby, we should probably start soon because I'm not getting any younger."  When he agreed, I asked him to pull over so I could throw up.

We never actually started "TRYING" per se, but we occasionally DID IT and I was no longer on birth control.  It took all of 2 months.  I peed on a stick.  I cried.  I apologized to the pets because I knew we would not have as much quality time in 9 months.  I bought an "I'm sorry" card for my Husband and said we cannot go on the cruise with our families because I will be 9 months pregnant.  I cannot recall, but I think I had the pee stick in the card?  I handed it to him after softball and before we walked into the after softball bar...where I could not drink, but tried really hard to throw people off the scent.

I have funny birth stories (my opinion at least), but I'll save those, because once again, I've strayed FARRRR beyond my actual point here.  Fast forward 9 years to now.  We are a family unit.  My Husband, my 2 awesome boys and me.  I schedule play dates, but I do not schedule a ton.  And the kids we see most are my college friend/NYC roommate and her kids.  Why?  Because that is equally a play date for me.  I know, selfish.

Well at some point, I realized that most of the kids in our town are friends with the kids in their neighborhood.  But we live on an older cul de sac and there are not really that many kids their age on the street.  So I started thinking "maybe we should move to a development?"  About 2 days after I considered looking for a new house, my children found 3 children who lived like 2 yards away.  We had not met them before, but we have some decent land acreage, so I'll pretend it wasn't a shock that they had lived there for the last 3 years.  There was a girl 1 month older than my oldest son.  And there were 2 brothers, 6 and 5 that were perfect for my baby.  Voila!  Problem solved!!!  And their Mom, on day 1, did not even FLINCH when my nearly 5 year old at the time announced, as he brought in their drinking cup, that he had peed in it.  Lucky for me he told us her daughter had suggested it.  We threw the cup out and never spoke of it again.

It was all great.  Until last Thursday.  Last Thursday I did not have a banner day.  I pretty much wanted to come home and drink a glass (vat) of wine.  2 minutes after I arrive, the kids were in our yard.  I went from not wanting to watch my own kids, to watching 5 kids in 120 seconds flat.  I opened a Corona and considered behaving loudly irresponsible so that someone would retrieve the children.  But they are good kids, and my kids love them, so I shut it and let them play.  And we didn't eat until 7:30 as a result.

But then Monday?  Camp started for one of mine, but not the other.  So I now had two pick ups and karate night.  I FLEW home to get the do pak (aka - UNIFORM and likely spelled wrong, though I don't care karate masters of the blogiverse).  I fed the animals and was preparing to tear out of the house after peeing to my still running car when...KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!  SERIOUSLY????  "They are not here.  I have to get them (in 4 seconds after I friggin' PEE).  No, no they cannot play tonight because they have to eat and then go to karate.  I promise.  I promise we will have you over."  I know she likes the boys, but she really just wants to go in the pool.

Tuesday rained and we got a reprieve.  I got a text from her Mom on Wednesday.  Her Mom is very nice - SOO nice.  It is a three screen text with disclaimers.  Basically her daughter said that I may have said they could come over to go in the pool.  No, karate night is Wednesday too (don't get me wrong, the karate schedule also bugs me).  Maybe Friday.

I could go on.  In reality, I now find myself making SURE to schedule myself and the kids for the weekend because I am getting irritated that kids are automatically at my house?  Why?  I DON'T KNOW!!!  THEY ARE GOOD KIDS!!!  I start opening the garage door when I am up the street hoping that I can sneak the car in and close the door before anyone sees it open.  Why?  Because my day today did not bring me joy and I do not want to watch 5 kids when I'm already miserable.  I want to BLOG and let my kids watch...something...on tv!  Somehow I made it in the door tonight without incident.

Today is Thursday.  I know they're coming tomorrow and I'm okay with that because I was the one who suggested Friday.  I bought 3 more sets of swim floaties because I don't think any of them are comfortable in the water in which they want so desperately to swim.  But I want to know what genetic code exists in people like my Sister in Law who are perfectly cool with entertaining and feeding a neighborhood.  I don't have that gene, and I feel evil for not having it.  Does it come easier when the kids get older and you don't feel like you have to watch every move?  Can someone please explain this to me?  I know you Jennifer Hunt ARE a good community/neighborhood Mom.  I know that YOU Julie Cohn ENJOY entertaining all of your son's class.  Were you always like that?  Did it take some kind of epiphany to bring you to this point?  Why am I so protective of my space and time?  And WHY, WHY did I get my finger stuck in a bottle of wine?  Seriously, how stupid is that?